The one where she learns

The one where she learns


that her father has lung cancer.  I had a bad feeling about this last week when his doctor asked me to call and discuss the findings on a CT scan done then.  I work in a cancer treatment center, so I knew that most likely he was facing a diagnosis of cancer.  With my mother in a nursing home with dementia, this is doubly hard to deal with.  Our next step is to meet with a surgeon and start exploring treatment options.  His diagnosis is squamous cell carcinoma, left lower lobe, lung, moderately differentiated.  Not a great prognosis, but not hopeless either.  One day at a time.

I’m thinking about starting another blog with my dad’s diagnosis and the journey that my family are about to start.  If it happens, chances are that it will be updated once or twice a week, depending upon what’s happening.  My only reservation is that I tend to be a tad obsessive and usually run myself ragged trying to live up to my (impossible) demands.  You know, this could be a way to practice being kind and caring to myself, learning that sometimes “good enough sometimes is good enough”.  This is sounding better and better.  I can always shut it down if it gets overwhelming.  But, this really doesn’t mesh with my never say die, strong-willed, I can do it all personality.  They say old dogs can learn new tricks.  I think I’ll sleep on it.

OK, now I know I’ve got too much on my plate.  Again I notice that I did a blog post last week but neglected to publish it.  Maybe another blog right now isn’t such a good idea.  I’ll still sleep on it.

I’ve no new pics to post, but this never fails to make me smile –

Gotta love the sweater.

A man has to live with himself, and he should see to it that he always has good company.  Charles Evans Hughes (1862-1948)

B.

The one where I decide to share

The one where I decide to share


a couple of things other than the warm fuzzies I usually talk about.  In a nutshell, my mother has been in a nursing home for the last year due to vascular dementia and all it’s ugly effects.  My father spends all day, every day by her side in the NH, despite strong suggestions by his doctors, that he start taking better care of himself, eating more (he’s skin and bones) and getting more rest and relaxation.  He’s 82 by the way, has a pacemaker and is very arthritic, has a difficult time standing or walking for any length of time.  He and my mom live way down in southwest Arkansas, about three hours away from Little Rock and he has refused to even consider relocating closer to me and Mr. Iknead.  On top of that, I’m an only child, so I don’t have a sibling safety net.

To make a long story short, my dad went to his family doctor last Tuesday to follow up on the chronic problems he has, mainly a pacemaker check and bloodwork for the heart medications he takes.  She did a CT scan to check out his lungs and found that he has three separate masses in his left lung, along with a left adrenal gland mass.  He has a biopsy scheduled for Monday morning, which is day after tomorrow, to find out whether or not he has cancer.  I spoke with his dr Tuesday morning and she pretty much told me that these are more likely than not malignant and that it’s spread to at least his adrenal gland.  We’ll know for certain one way or another after the biopsy.  Mr. Iknead and I are going down there tomorrow afternoon and honestly, I expect that I’ll be down there for at least three days, while he recovers and we get a clear answer on what to do next.  We’re hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.  Thank heavens Mom is in the NH, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.

On a more upbeat note, the Brittany Jumper is, ta-da, finished, right down to weaving in the ends.  I’m going to block it tomorrow and hopefully will get a photo to post.  Did I mention that the Papoose is the most wonderful baby on the plant?  No, I didn’t think so.  Here’s a peek at the light of my life –

It’s impossible not to smile along with her!

Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force.  The friends who listen to us are the ones we move toward.  When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand.  Dr. Karl Augustus Menninger  1893-1900

B.